One Difference: Hyde Doesn't Lie
by MistyMountainHop
Summary: Hyde tells Jackie the truth about their Veteran's Day kiss. But his choice alters their relationship... and the lives around them. One difference can change everything.
1. Hyde Doesn't Lie, Part 1

**Disclaimer:** _That '70s Show _copyright The Carsey-Werner Company, LLC and Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment, LLC.

**Dedication: **To msstock87, fairytaleprincess03, schottzie, and hanselnext for your undying Zennie love.

ONE DIFFERENCE:  
**HYDE DOESN'T LIE  
**about the Kiss in "Jackie Bags Hyde"

The night couldn't have been more perfect. The Lincoln's hood was cold beneath Jackie's butt, but Steven sat so close that he heated her body and mind. He'd both defended her honor earlier at Mr. Forman's barbecue and asked her on a date. He actually paid for their pizza and drove them to Inspiration Point, a make-out spot on Mt. Hump. Never did she think he'd take her here of all places.

The sky was clear enough for stargazing, and the chilly air made her shiver. Steven had lent her his denim jacket, and she fought every impulse to kiss him, to taste the lips she'd fantasized about so often. Instead, she asked him what he thought of their first date.

"It was no worse than bowling," he said, and she glared at him. What kind of answer was that? The date had filled her insides with fireworks, but he clarified his statement by adding, "I don't hate bowling."

She smiled—he'd actually enjoyed being with her—and gazed into his eyes. She could barely see them through his sunglasses, but he didn't glance away.

She leaned in closer to him. Their arms were pressing against each other now, and she tilted her head. He angled his down, directing his mouth toward her lips, and her heart beat furiously as he welcomed her kiss.

The initial contact between them was soft. He didn't push; they were experimenting, learning how their lips felt on each other. But then he grew bolder and gave her more of his mouth. The sensation of him shot strangely into her neck and energized the rest of her body. She was both uncomfortable with and fascinated by the feeling, but he began to pull away from her.

Did kissing her surprise him? Frighten him? She cradled his cheek with one hand and planted her other on the Lincoln's hood for support. He couldn't withdraw from her yet. She had to experience a full kiss with Steven Hyde, and she widened her jaw to let him in completely. His mouth answered in kind, pushing back into hers intimately and causing a wave of emotion to crash through her. Her tongue slid wetly against his, and his breath seemed to catch.

She couldn't think. She was so used to thinking during a kiss—about her hair, the latest cheer routine, Michael's lack of technique—but as she and Steven began to part, she imagined swimming naked in the reservoir and crawling out to the freezing air. Gooseflesh was rising on her skin, in anticipation of being without what he'd just given her.

She stopped short of breaking contact with him. Their lips remained connected; his were warm, and hers were tingling. Would she tremble once he was gone? Her hand didn't leave his cheek, and the breath from his nose tickled her skin. She was experiencing a total lack of comprehension. This date was Steven's and her first, but the kiss felt like two lovers reconnecting after years apart. Impossible,and something he would never reflect back.

She waited for him to pull away from her mouth, but he stayed as he was, with no indication he would leave. Was he waiting for her to continue the kiss?

She couldn't. Her lips withdrew from him. She licked them to get his taste off, and she looked into his eyes for answers. They gave her none, only gazed at her with a quality she couldn't identify. Had he been without his sunglasses, maybe she would've gleaned some truth, gained some help for the chaos swirling through her body and mind.

She glanced down at the leaf-covered ground, though she didn't really see it. Her idea of love had been shattered when she caught Michael cheating on her. Steven had helped her forge a new idea, one where boys protected the girls they claimed to hate. One in which a specific boy—him—protected a specific girl—her—even when it put his own life in danger. He'd gone to jail for her, had kept her dastardly deed a secret, even after Mr. Forman kicked him out of his house.

"Okay, I didn't feel anything," she said, putting the only words she could to the chaos.

He hesitated before speaking. "Nothing?"

She returned her gaze to him, and his face reflected the confusion in his voice. "No," she said quickly. "I mean... I meant..." Her brain ran through alternative answers. She hadn't wanted to insult his technique, especially since he knew how to kiss. "I mean the kiss was hot, but..." She'd waited a year before making love to Michael, yet she could easily have sex with Steven in the Lincoln tonight—and that, along with everything else, terrified her. Who the hell was she? She no longer recognized herself. "Well, did _you _feel something?" she said.

He hesitated again, "Uh... yeah," and hopped off the Lincoln's hood. "Doesn't matter, though."

"What?" She jumped off the hood, too, and followed him to the car's passenger-side door. It was open, and Leo Sayer's "When I Need You" was playing from the radio.

"You don't feel shit, so it doesn't matter if I felt anything or not."

He put his hand on her back and gently guided her into the car. He shut the door once she was inside, and soon he was beside her in the driver's seat. He tuned the radio to a rock station. Some too-loud song blasted through the speaker, and he touched his fingers to his lips before pressing on the gas.

The Lincoln's wheels crunched onto Mt. Hump's gravel-strewn road. Jackie stared out the windshield, but the night was so dark. Barely anything could be seen except the road. The trees were dark blotches that passed by too quickly. "So you feel something," she said.

"Doesn't matter."

"What if I'd told you something different? Would it matter then?"

"Doesn't matter," he said again and cranked up the radio's volume.

"_Ugh! _Can't you say something else?"

He shrugged. They'd reached the foot of Mt. Hump, and he turned the Lincoln onto Green Bay Road.

* * *

Hyde needed Jackie to shut up. She was interrogating him on a closed subject. Her kiss had started a revolution inside his chest. He was all for anarchy, but not when it reigned in his own damn body and mind. The rebellion had to be squashed before it torched his sanity.

"_What _did you feel, Steven?" she said.

"Nothin' relevant." He kept his focus on the road but caught her face in the rearview mirror. She was frowning. Time had come to go on the offensive. "Why the hell do you care?"

"It matters—"

"Why?"

"Because it _does._"

"So you can laugh about it with your bitchy cheerleader friends? Sorry, not givin' you any ammunition."

She crossed her arms over her chest. He saw this in the rearview mirror, too, but he should've been watching the road. A car honked at him angrily, and he put his foot on the brake. He'd almost run a red light and collided into a mid-sized Mazda.

"You just wanted to have sex with me," she said. "Is that it? You're disappointed I wouldn't do it with you on the hood of my daddy's car?" Her eyes narrowed—he was looking at her directly now—and her lips curled into a snarl. "All you men are alike."

"And you're full of yourself."

He refocused on driving, but she wasn't finished. Her hand slid over his thigh. "Pull over somewhere. We'll do it right now."

He slapped her hand off his leg, before she could feel her full effect on him. "No, thanks. Not into making chicks do what they don't wanna do." He sucked in a breath and blew it out. "Man..."

"What?"

"First Kelso, then that dillhole Chip. You sure know how to pick 'em."

She gasped. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He didn't answer. 75th Street led into Jackie's upper-class neighborhood of mansions, luxury stores, and high-end restaurants he couldn't afford, and he'd never been so happy to see it.

"You're so difficult," she said once he pulled up to her house. Her driveway was as gravelly as Mt. Hump's road, and her garage door was shut. "That's your biggest problem, you know." She removed a garage remote from the glove box and pressed a fat white button. "You're difficult."

"Yeah, and your garage is open, so I'm outta here." He put the Lincoln in neutral and shoved himself out of the car. The date hadn't gone as he expected, and it definitely hadn't ended the way he thought it would have after that kiss. The chick fawned over him for months, didn't take no for an answer, and when she finally got what she wanted, she chucked him out like an empty beer can.

His boots crunched on the gravel driveway. Walking off the Burkharts' property would close this pathetic chapter of his life. Jackie was no longer his problem, and neither were the feelings she'd stirred up. Not since Donna had a chick affected him this much, for good and bad. He didn't like it, the lack of control. Made him do stupid things.

"Steven! Steven, wait!" Jackie dashed up to him at the property's ornate metal gates. She touched his arm. "You forgot to take your jacket."

"Oh. Guess I did," he said, and she handed him the denim jacket. He resisted the urge to sniff it, to find out if her floral-scented hair had left any trace on it. "Thanks."

He shrugged on the jacket without looking at her. That should have been the end of things, but the denim was still warm from her body.

* * *

"I can wait here 'til you drive into the garage," Steven said, and Jackie flinched. His offer startled her. Michael always fled once they got onto her family's property. He was scared of her father and rightly so. Daddy had never liked him, but despite Steven's scruffiness and somewhat crude demeanor, he was a gentleman.

"It's okay," she said. "I'll be fine..." But this night would haunt her, what she'd done. She'd rejected him because she needed time, because she thought the current flowing through her was one-way, that he wouldn't complete the circuit. "Thanks for the date, Steven. Thank you for giving me a chance." She cupped his shoulders, stood on her toes, and went to kiss his cheek.

He shied away. "Let's not do that."

"Sorry. Good night." She backed off and headed toward the driveway. Her decision at Inspiration Point seemed irreversible. If she'd used better words to explain herself, had shared her confusion and fear, would he have respected it? Or even cared? Steven was a boy used to an easy girl, and Jackie was anything but easy.

Yet even now, her body ached for him. She wanted his lips on her, for his hands to slip beneath the fabric of her dress, but her heart couldn't handle it. She needed to go slowly, despite that he could have kissed her into ecstasy tonight. She needed to walk away, despite that she could fall in love with him—_ truly_ fall in love beyond infatuation—if he did the right thing in the next thirty seconds.

She reached the Lincoln, and gravel crunched noisily behind her. She turned around, pulse tightening because she half-expected a robber, but Steven grasped her hand, and she heaved a long, relieved breath.

"Look, I'm sorry for being an ass," he said seriously, but then he grinned. "Turns out I was right about us, huh?"

"I guess so."

"For what it's worth, I'm not pissed you don't wanna screw, okay? I know that's my rep, but it ain't why I said what I said on the car. We're cool, all right?"

"We are?" She stared at him. The front lights of her house were reflecting off his sunglasses, and she couldn't see his eyes at all.

"Unlike you, I know how to let shit go." He gently squeezed her hand before releasing it. His lips grazed her cheek, but he was already at the property gates before she realized he'd kissed her.

* * *

Jackie tried to parse her kiss with Steven during the next week, to break it down to its base elements. The task distracted her in school, and instead of concentrating on geometry, she came up with six explanations for Steven's _"Uh... yeah," _about feeling something. Thankfully, Mrs. Clarke didn't call on her that Tuesday in class. On Wednesday, however, they had a quiz, which Jackie failed to study for—since she'd missed when Mrs. Clarke announced it.

The red B- she earned stood as a fiery testament to her frustration. What had Steven felt during their kiss? By Thursday, she'd X'd off half the explanations scribbled on notebook paper:

—Steven felt like having sex with me because I'm a hot kisser. [x]

—Steven felt annoyed he was kissing me. [x]

—Steven felt disgusted because he doesn't appreciate a good kiss. [x]

The remaining three possible reasons heated up in her skull, boiling over as she obsessively thought about them. Eventually they, quite embarrassingly, began spilling out of her mouth—and in front of Eric, of all people. She'd avoided his basement all week, had avoided Steven, but that changed on Friday. She went there after school, hoping to observe Steven and gather some evidence. Only he wasn't around.

"What are you doing here?" Eric said from the couch. A Lego set, in various stages of construction, was sprawled on the wooden spool table. "Don't you have other houses to haunt?"

"Whatever." Jackie crossed over to Steven's chair and sat down. The seat wasn't warm. Steven clearly hadn't come home yet. "_The Gong Show_?" She gestured derisively at the television. "Really? Can't you put on _The Edge of Night _or something?"

"Can't you be any less here?" He stuck a blue Lego to a gray one then slammed the joint pair onto a red Lego platform. "Damn, Hyde."

"What about Hyde—I mean, Steven?"

"He smashed up my rocket base on Monday night. Kicked it or something. I scoured the basement for all the pieces but—"

"Eric, wait." She stood up and rushed over to him. "This is really important."

"It is?" His face brightened as she sat on the couch. "Yeah, see, you come from a rich family and appreciate good craftsmanship. "

"No, if Steven wrecked your stupid Lego-thing, it means he was angry after..."

"After what?"

"After..." She glanced away, and her gaze fixed on Eric's half-built rocket. Did he know about her date with Steven? Steven had announced it in front of everyone at Mr. Forman's barbecue, but Eric was over at Donna's then. Michael and Fez had been present, but they were also drunk, and they didn't seem to remember. "After the barbecue," she said. "I think a sparkler singed some of his hair."

Eric frowned. "Well, that was no reason to destroy hours of my work."

He returned to building his rocket, and she watched his fingers, but they disappeared under the weight of her thoughts. "Better as 'just friends,'" she whispered and shook her head. "He couldn't have felt that about us. Eric's stupid rocket would still be intact—"

"Hey, watch what you say about the rocket, okay?" Eric nudged her shoulder and nodded at Steven's chair. "Personal space, please."

"Fine." She stood from the couch, but Eric had to keep talking.

"'Just friends'?" he said. "Hold on a sec." He pointed an accusing finger at her. "Don't tell me Kelso and Fez's drunken ramblings were true. Oh, God—" his face twisted with disgust, "you and Hyde _did _go out on an unholy date!"

She shook her head. "N'uh-uh."

"Did you—" His eyes shut. "I can't even make myself say it."

"Nothing happened, Eric! Stop making things up."

"Nothing happened _when_?"

"On the date."

"So there _was _a date!"

She flicked her eyes toward the basement's exit. "No..."

"Damn your demon tongue!" He covered his ears, "You, miss, are a liar!" and his words grew louder and faster the more he spoke. "Kelso was always a lost cause, but Hyde was pure. Even the head devil, Laurie, couldn't lure him. But you—you tainted him!"

"Shut up!" Jackie swept her arm across the spool table and knocked his half-built rocket base to the floor. Legos scattered everywhere.

Eric shot to his feet. "Jackie, what the hell?"

She grunted her annoyance. Then she marched back to Steven's chair.

"No, there's no sitting for you," he said. "You're gonna pick up every one of those Legos."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "And if I don't?"

"Then you're banned from the basement, that's what." He nodded with a smug smile, and she wanted to yank off his lips. He looked entirely too satisfied, but she stopped caring when Steven slipped into the basement. Eric, though, didn't seem to notice his arrival. "That's right, lady," he continued. "You're banned!"

"Who's banned from what now?" Steven said.

Eric turned toward him. "Your little girlfriend here."

"She's not my girlfriend."

"Well, whatever she is, she can't come here anymore unless she cleans up her damage. I rushed home after school today to fix that rocket, and she busted it!"

Steven laughed. "Nice."

Jackie's eyes widened. What did he mean by 'Nice'? _"Nice" _that she might be banned from the basement? Or _"Nice" _that she'd wrecked Eric's rocket again?

"Ooh, why don't you ever make sense?" she said to Steven. She stormed past him and reached the basement door. She grasped the knob.

"If you walk out," Eric said, "without picking up just _one _Lego, don't come back."

"Hey, Jackie—" Steven scooped a Lego from the cement floor and tossed it at her. She caught it. Then, with careful aim, she hurled it at Eric's skull. It struck him on the forehead, causing him to cry out, and Steven laughed harder. "I was hoping she would do that," he said between laughs, "and she did."

* * *

That night, Jackie received an unexpected phone call. Michael invited her to his uncle's ski cabin, but she refused to go unless other people were going, too.

"Oh, Eric and Donna are coming," he said. "Yeah, it's just a friendly outing."

"Friendly?" she said.

"Yup."

She agreed, if only to get on Eric's good side again. The prospect of being banned from the basement scared her. If Steven had just said he didn't feel anything in their kiss, she could've forgotten him—and all the confusion he inspired. If he hadn't felt anything, then her feelings would be irrelevant. A connection had to go both ways, or it wasn't a connection at all. It was delusion.

Her self-analysis this week had brought these things to light. While she and Michael were dating, she'd imagined Michael to be one person when he was another. But in Steven, she saw things he didn't see in himself, things he constantly denied. Yet his treatment of her contradicted that denial. Who was he really? She had her theories, but more proof was needed before she could let him go. And the only way to get more proof was to have access to the basement.

Michael's ski cabin turned out to be a tiny ice shack, and the "friendly outing" turned out to be a scheme for Michael to get Jackie back. Fez had come along and tried to flirt with her, too, something she definitely did not need. The whole day would've been a disaster had Michael's van not broken through the icy surface of a lake and sunk.

He was gloating over winning the dumb game he'd had everyone play, something styled after the _Newlywed Game. _He'd pulled Jackie into his van afterward and started hopping around, singing, "I won, and Fez lost! I won, and Fez lost!"

She stared out of the window during his idiocy until a loud crack vibrated the van. She fled outside, and he followed, and the van bubbled its last gasp as it sank into the freezing lake.

Eric, Donna, and Fez watched with amusement while Michael shouted futile protests. Jackie ignored him and hugged herself in an attempt to keep warm. The air was bitterly cold, and breathing stung her throat. No one was offering her his jacket, but Steven probably would have, just like he'd done during their date.

"Jackie—hey!" Eric bumped her shoulder and captured her attention.

"What?"

"Forget what I said yesterday. Welcome back."

She risked a half-smile. "You mean it?"

"Oh, yeah. This is the greatest burn on someone-who's-been-sleeping-with-my-sister ever." He gestured to the jagged hole of ice and water where Michael's van used to be. "Wouldn't have happened without you."

"He's right," Michael said. "If you hadn't broken up with me, I wouldn't have tried to get you back. You owe me money!"

"So that's all this was?" Jackie said. "A manipulative attempt to woo me?"

"Who cares? I'm losing my van!"

Donna slid her arm around Eric's shoulders. He'd given her his coat to wear, and envy dripped off Jackie's skin like water, forming icicles. "Time for a four-mile-walk to town," Donna said. "We're gonna have to pool our money to hire a cab to take us home."

"Oh, I'll pay for it," Jackie said. "Let's go."

She led the charge from the ice shack but treaded lightly toward the road. She didn't want to suffer the same fate as Michael's van and break through the ice. She was freezing enough.

* * *

Six weeks had passed since Hyde's kiss with Jackie, and she hadn't pestered him once since that night. Sometimes he caught her looking at him in the basement. Then again, maybe he was the one looking at her.

He still didn't get why she'd cared about what their kiss made him feel. Vanity was the most logical answer. But she would have bragged about his admission to everyone, and she hadn't. None of her bitchy friends had bugged him about it; none of their mutual friends had, either—except for Forman. Forman asked him once if he and Jackie had "swapped hellish spit," but Hyde disabused him of the idea. No one needed to know about that kiss.

Even though Hyde couldn't stop thinking about it.

The Christmas rager tonight at Bud's place was the perfect distraction. Tinsel, beer, weed, and people packed the apartment. Jackie and Donna didn't like the prospect of "sucking beer out of a funnel," so they hightailed it out of there, and Hyde was relieved. Some primo skanks had been invited to this party, and Hyde was holed up with two of them in his room. They both had nice racks, were drunker than he was—and were totally into him. His first three-way, man, and he had Jackie to thank for it.

_Jackie to thank for it? _He stiffened and not in the good way. Why the hell was he thinking of her while these chicks used his body as a playground? But their hands and mouths didn't reach him beyond his skin. His outer barrier kept them out, toughened from years of pain and abuse. In no way did he want to connect with a girl beyond his body. But Jackie, damn her, had gotten past his defenses.

That didn't keep him from enjoying the night, though. His mind eventually fell in line as the two chicks gave directions. Unlike him, they'd done this before. He lay back on his bed, and as they took turns on top of him, Veteran's Day became a faint memory.

* * *

"Ooh, listen to this." Jackie pointed to the _Cosmo _article she was reading. "'Corner Him Under the Mistletoe: Eight Ways to Trick a Guy Into a Relationship.'" She grinned despite that the night had been, thus far, uneventful. Steven was having his party, and she wasn't there. "I love the holidays."

"Anyone in particular you're trying to trick?" Donna said. She and Jackie were sitting in the Formans' living room. _Frosty the Snowman _was playing on the television, not exactly riveting cinema. "Because anyone who's worth a damn," Donna continued, "you don't _have _to trick."

Jackie glared at her. "Aren't we festive."

"Speak for yourself."

"For a giant, you're not very jolly. What's your problem?"

"What's _yours? _You've been bitchier than usual the last six weeks."

Jackie put down her magazine. "I have?"

"Yeah. I mean, a few insults here and there, okay. But it's been, like, non-stop. _'Donna, that shirt makes you look like Sasquatch. 'Donna, red is for hearts, not hair.' 'Donna, your tomato-shaped butt's blocking my reading light'._"

"Oh, Donna..." she covered her mouth and hid her laughter. "I guess I've been on a roll. Sorry."

"You sure have."

Jackie grew silent. She'd been having horrible dreams over the last six weeks, dreams where she and Steven were together. Whenever she woke from them, a hollow feeling spread through her chest. Last night's dream had been particularly brutal, a full-on replay of their Veteran's Day kiss, only they didn't stop at kissing. Her skin was still tingling from it.

"Donna," she said, "I need to talk to you about Steven."

"Oh, God. I thought you were over him."

"I am... but when he liked you—I mean, _liked _you—what was he like?"

"That's a lot of like."

"Come on." Jackie patted Donna's knee. "I'll be less bitchy from now on if you're serious."

"Okay, um... " Donna's fingers knotted together. "Hyde was..." she glanced up at the ceiling and inhaled deeply, "not good."

"'Not good' how?"

"He didn't get that I was with Eric, and he forced me to kiss him, and I slapped him."

Jackie screwed up her face. She had a hard time imagining Steven forcing himself on anyone, but Donna wouldn't lie about something like that. "Okay, what I really mean is, did he ever tell you how he felt about you? Directly?"

"He might have?" Donna said, with too much uncertainty for Jackie's taste. "I was kind of really drunk at the time, and I can barely remember it."

Jackie grasped Donna's shoulders and shook her. "Remember it, Pinciotti. Remember."

"He said something about feelings." Donna scooted back on the couch, and Jackie's hands slipped off her. "He said he had feelings for me."

"That's all?"

"Maybe there was more. Oh, but I do remember beeping his nose."

"You're no help." Jackie picked up her magazine again and began to read, but her brain registered none of the words. Not since her first kiss had the ways of love confounded her so. Steven's unpredictable nature had effectively made her a novice in romance.


	2. Hyde Doesn't Lie, Part 2

**Disclaimer:** _That '70s Show _copyright The Carsey-Werner Company, LLC and Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment, LLC.

ONE DIFFERENCE:  
**HYDE DOESN'T LIE  
**

**Part II**

Hyde had screwed plenty of chicks in last the six months. Those were relationships that lasted a day or two, and he snuck the chicks into his room and snuck them back out again. His friends never saw them. _Jackie _never saw them, and that shouldn't have been important to him, but it was.

Jackie had rejected all of Kelso's advances during the last half year. She refused his presents, his songs, his favors. She remained single, and it meant she hadn't used Hyde as a rebound, that her interest in him had been genuine—until the kiss.

They rarely spoke to each other now, mostly because he didn't know what to say. After the crap he pulled with Donna, he'd never pursue a chick who didn't want him. Real relationships weren't worth the hassle anyway. Watching Forman and Donna crash and burn last month in a nasty break-up reaffirmed that philosophy. Love meant pain, and Hyde's life was devoted to avoiding pain.

Jackie didn't seem to share his philosophy, though. She'd brought some freakin' art project to the basement. It required her to carve up cardboard, and she was doing a shit-job at it. He spared glances at her while she grunted and cursed. She was set up in the alcove beneath the stairs. A pair of sharp-looking scissors was clenched in her fist, and she was shredding a cardboard box with them.

"Why is she _here?_" Forman groaned. "Couldn't she have chosen Donna's side today and gone to her place? Kelso's there."

"That's _why _she is here," Fez said from the lawn chair. "Kelso has gone from writing Jackie songs to groping her."

Hyde sat forward in his chair. "He's what?"

"Oh, damn." Fez slapped a hand over his mouth. "I said nothing."

"No, you said something," Hyde said.

"Who cares?" Forman stretched his legs out on the wooden spool table. His shoes made a racket, bumping into the incense holder and candle. "It's Jackie and Kelso. They'll get back together eventually. It's inevitable."

"No, it isn't—" Jackie said from beneath the stairs, and her protest was followed by a shriek.

"Hey, keep the screaming to a minimum, will ya?" Forman said.

Hyde looked over at her. Her hand was bleeding. "Shut up, Forman! She's hurt."

"Of course she's hurt," Fez said. "Kelso squeezed her boob too hard—ai!"

Fez slapped his hand over his mouth again, but Hyde only heard the sound. He was already on his feet and rushing to Jackie's side. She was kneeling by her cardboard art project and holding her hand high in the air. She must've known to do that from their school's first-aid class. The scissors lay bloody by her knees.

"Man, what'd you do to yourself?" Hyde said. He was standing over her and checked her hand. Blood covered the top of it and was dripping onto her arm, onto the concrete floor. "Forman, get your ma—now!"

Forman didn't argue. He got off the couch and raced to the stairs.

"I was keeping the box steady with my left hand," Jackie said, "and I was slicing into the cardboard." She wasn't crying, but her voice trembled. "The scissors slipped."

"Yeah, let's get you fixed up." Hyde helped her stand, and Fez dashed to them. "I got this, Fez," Hyde said, but Fez offered Jackie his arm anyway. "Back off, all right?" Hyde steered Jackie toward the washer and dryer, and Fez began to follow. "Just stay put, man. Too many cooks'll screw things up."

"But no one is cooking—" Fez said, "unless _Bob _is cooking. Oh, what if he is making those Rice Krispies squares Donna taught him how to make? And Kelso wants to eat them all, the sonuvabitch!"

A few moments later, the basement door whisked open and slammed shut. Fez had flown the coop, but that was good. Made the situation easier.

Hyde washed his hands in the sink beside the dryer. Then he grabbed the first-aid kit from the shelves above. He took out a roll of gauze but had nothing to cut it with, so he unrolled a decent amount of the stuff and pressed it into Jackie's wound.

"Th—thank you," she said. He was supporting her arm, keeping her hand elevated above her head, and his fingers maintained pressure on the gauze. She seemed a little unsteady, though, and he led her to the couch.

"Where's the patient?" Mrs. Forman's voice floated down the stairs. Her body soon followed, and she met Hyde and Jackie by the spool table. "Tell me exactly what happened."

"She cut herself with the scissors pretty good," Hyde said. Jackie had sat down, and he still applied pressure to the gauze on her hand.

"I can see that." Mrs. Forman pointed to Jackie's blood-spattered arm. "My, look at all that. If the bleeding doesn't stop in fifteen minutes or so, we'll have to take you to the hospital."

"Stitches?" Jackie's eyes widened in horror. "No, I can't have stitches. They'll give me a scar. I'll look like Frankenstein!"

"Oh, honey, you won't look like Frankenstein," Mrs. Forman said. "You'll look like his monster. Frankenstein was the scientist who made him."

Hyde smirked. "You'll look badass. People'll think you got in a knife fight."

"You think so?" Jackie's lips twitched into a small smile.

"Yeah, man. You'll get a new nickname, too: Beulah the Blade."

The smile collapsed into a frown. "_Ugh!_ Why, Steven?"

"'Cause it's funny."

"Steven, stop teasing her," Mrs. Forman said. "I can hold the bandage. You should go upstairs and console Eric. He was looking kind of green when he told me about Jackie's cut. You know how he is about blood."

"It's 'icky and it makes him sicky,'" Hyde said, and Jackie giggled. "But if it's all the same, I'll stick around."

Mrs. Forman looked at her watch. "All right. Jackie, I'll be back in ten minutes to check on you. If you start to feel nauseous or lightheaded, let Steven know—and you, Steven, let me know."

He nodded. "Will do."

Mrs. Forman disappeared up the stairs, and Hyde leaned against the back of the couch. His arms were getting tired holding up Jackie's hand, but he had no complaints.

"Steven..." she said.

"Yeah?"

"Why are you being nice to me?"

"Why not?"

"That's not an answer."

"You're bleeding," he said.

"Not just from my hand." The words were buried in a sigh, but he'd heard them, much to his disgust.

"Jackie! No one wants to know about your monthly intruder."

"I wasn't talking about that, you pig!" She twisted her body around to glower at him. Then she swatted at his stomach with her unhurt hand.

"Hey, hey, watch it. I gotta hold onto this here." He gripped her bleeding hand tighter, to make sure the gauze wouldn't slip off.

"Ever hear of a metaphor, Steven? Michael's driving me crazy. He's obsessed and following me around. He keeps showing up at my house uninvited, but the housekeeper never lets him in. Then what he did the other day..." She sucked in a breath and shut her eyes. Tears were shining on her eyelashes.

"He really grope ya?"

"We were in the cafeteria, and he snuck up beside me. He put his arm around my shoulders and said I needed to 'stop pretending'. Then he kissed my neck, and I hit him, but he—God, it's so embarrassing."

Hyde offered her his fist. "Show me." She grasped his wrist then rubbed her thumb over one of his knuckles. "Yeah, got it." He withdrew his fist from her. It had a meeting with Kelso's face later. "Maybe it's time you get a new boyfriend."

"What? Michael's not my—"

"I know, but Kelso thinks you're still available. Maybe if you had one of the Vikings on your arm, he'd stay off your back."

"I don't wanna date someone from the football team."

"But you're a cheerleader."

"So?"

"Cheerleaders and jocks go together like me and a stash."

"Not this cheerleader," she said and wiggled the fingers of her cut hand. "My arm's tired."

"You gotta keep it up." He leaned his elbow into the couch's top edge and gave her more support. "Better?

"Yes."

"So..." his next question escaped his throat slowly, "why _haven't_ you dated anyone?"

"If you'd had a girlfriend who'd treated you like Michael treated me, would you rush into another relationship?"

"You tried with me."

"That was different."

Another question rose to his tongue, but itnever got asked. Mrs. Forman had come back to the basement, and she checked over Jackie's hand.

"Oh, good. The bleeding's stopped." She'd removed the gauze, revealing an angry, blood-encrusted slash across Jackie's skin. "We have to clean the wound to see what we're dealing with, okay, sweetie?"

Jackie nodded, and they went together to the basement bathroom. Hyde stayed by the couch, waiting in case Jackie needed him. He'd made the right call because Mrs. Forman asked him to bring her the first-aid kit. He did and said, "What's up?"

"Nothing serious," she said. "Stitches shouldn't be necessary if we use butterfly bandages." She took several of the bandages out of the first-aid kit and went to work on Jackie's hand. "Now, Jackie, you're to leave these on for a few days. If your cut becomes inflamed or begins to ooze, you come see me right away, okay? And if I'm not available, you'll have to go to the hospital."

"Yes, Mrs. Forman," Jackie said. "Thank you."

"Of course, sweetie." Mrs. Forman kissed the top of Jackie's head. "Steven, can you take her home? She's been through a lot."

"Oh, he doesn't have to do that. I can walk. I just need to get my art project."

"It's got your blood on it, Jackie," Hyde said then thought about it. "Yeah, that works. Maybe add the blood-stained scissors for effect."

"You're ridiculous," Jackie said, but laughter was in her voice. "I'm not touching those." She indicated the scissors on the basement floor.

Mrs. Forman put up her hand. "Just leave them. I'll take care of it."

Jackie bent down by her hacked cardboard boxes, and Hyde did the same. Together, they put them into the shopping bags she'd brought with her. Mrs. Forman, meanwhile, went upstairs to get a pair of rubber gloves for the bloody scissors.

"What's this art project supposed to be, anyway?" Hyde said. The shopping bags were full, and he carried both of them to the basement's back door.

"It's going to be an abstract version of a fashion show," Jackie said. She opened the door for them and followed him out to the stone staircase. "I'm making a runway, and I'm going to paste different swatches of fabric to the shapes I've cut out."

"Sounds... lame."

"Steven!"

He shrugged, and she groaned in exasperation. Then she poked his back all the way to the top of the stairs. "What do you want me to say, Jackie? That I think it's cool?"

"Yes. I got wounded, will probably have a horrible scar because of it, and—"

"Now _that _is cool."

"Oh!" She shoved him forward, and he stumbled onto the driveway but didn't fall. "You're such a jerk, you know that?"

"Never said I wasn't. In fact, I think I told you specifically I'm a jerk."

They went to his car—his pride and joy—a black El Camino. He put the shopping bags down in the flatbed, and he opened the passenger-side door for Jackie. She cast him a dirty look before getting inside and said, "No wonder you've never had a girlfriend," and he slammed the door shut.

"I've had plenty of girlfriends," he said once in the driver's seat. He revved the engine, one of the most beautiful sounds in existence, then drove off the Formans' property.

"Girls you sleep with on backseats and never see again don't count," she said.

"Yeah? Then what does count?" The question had slipped impulsively from his brain to his mouth. Jackie's opinion on anything should've been as good as worthless to him. They came from two different worlds, man, and she knew nothing about his. A rich snob couldn't understand what growing up poor and parentless was like, but that night on her dad's Lincoln, she'd proved him wrong. She'd understood him far better than he ever wanted anyone to. And it made her opinion mean more than he'd ever wanted it to.

"Spending time with a girl, for one," she said and turned her face toward him. "And before you say you _do _spend time with them, I don't mean sexually. I mean, you go out to fancy dinners, which _you _pay for, and to movies—which you also pay for—and cuddle on the couch together."

"At least one of those things is free."

She gestured with her wounded hand, as if presenting something. "You can also hang out at each other's houses while doing homework or studying for tests. Listen to music together. Dance. Talk. Steven, a relationship is about _relating. _In every way. Life becomes richer when you have someone special to share it with. Even boring documentaries on electricity or George Washington."

"Richer, huh?"

"Especially if the man earns a lot of money."

"There we go."

She frowned, and he caught it in the rearview mirror. "What?" she said.

"You were startin' to sound like someone I didn't recognize. Glad you're still gold-diggin' you."

"Wow... you really don't know me, do you?"

He said nothing and turned onto 75th street. Her neighborhood wasn't far off.

"I'd choose love over money," she said, "_every_ time. My mom's a successful real estate agent, named to the Top Ten in Wisconsin. She doesn't need Daddy's money; it's just nice to have. I plan on going to college and becoming a fashion designer or stylist. Do you really think I would've stayed with Michael so long if I valued money over love?" She laughed, not with humor but with acid. "He's a doofus, Steven. He fell over backward in his chair during his interview at Fatso Burger."

Hyde looked at her. They'd come to a red light, but inside his mind the lights were all yellow. "What about all your pushin' for him to get you freakin' jewelry and crap?"

"Please. You did the tallies after I wrecked his van. I bought him eight-thousand dollars' worth of stuff. I bought him clothes and toys and God knows what else. Do I want my boyfriend to buy me shiny things? Yes, because I deserve them. But judging me on what I say and not on what I actually _do..._" she turned toward the passenger-side window, "whatever."

The traffic light outside had turned green, and he hit the gas. They were a minute away from the Burkhart Mansion, but Jackie's statement was playing havoc with his own lights. They were flashing from red to yellow to green and back again. His thoughts and feelings were in a jam and were liable to crash into each other big-time.

"'Whatever' ain't gonna work with me," he said and drove more slowly. "Finish what you were gonna say."

"I didn't judge you based on your words." Her gaze remained out the window. "All the times you said you hated me or wanted to get rid of me, I never believed them because your actions told me different. You comforted me when I was crying over Michael. You went to jail for me. And even today, you've been so great about _this_—" She slid a hand, the wounded one, over his knee. The slice beneath the butterfly bandages really would leave a scar, both nasty-looking and kickass. "Steven, maybe you don't understand yourself."

The Camino's wheels crunched over the Burkharts' gravel driveway. He parked the car in first gear, but Jackie's hand was still on his knee. The last time she'd touched him like that, he'd slapped her hand away. Now all he wanted to do was hold it, and the desire sickened him.

"Maybe I don't," he said, and the admission sounded strange to his ears. Whether he understood himself or not had never mattered before.

He opened the driver-side door and got out. Then he opened Jackie's door and offered his hand. She took it but didn't leave the car. She kept her palm beneath his fingers, and he had no interest in removing them. "Be more careful with your scissors," he said.

"I will. Eric won't be in my room and distracting me." She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "God, he's such a moron. Does he think I'm a masochist? That I'd ever get back with Michael—after everything Michael's done to me?"

"Yeah, about that... Kelso's not your problem anymore."

Her mouth dropped open slightly. "What do you mean?"

"We all got our projects. He's become mine."

She didn't question him, but her thumb brushed over his hand. His skin prickled up his arm, and he hoped like hell she couldn't see it. "Thanks for the drive home," she said, and her grip on him tightened. She finally left the car, and they released each other, but his palm retained the warmth she'd given him.

He retrieved her bags from the flatbed and brought them to her front door. "Need me to carry these upstairs or something?" he said.

"No, the housekeeper will do that." She unlocked and opened her door, and her foot nudged the shopping bags into her foyer. "Whether you believe it or not," she said and slipped inside her house, "you'll be a good boyfriend to someone someday."

The door shut before he could respond.

He trudged back to the Camino without looking back, but one by one, the lights inside his mind were turning green.


	3. Hyde Doesn't Lie, Part 3

**Disclaimer:** _That '70s Show _copyright The Carsey-Werner Company, LLC and Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment, LLC.

ONE DIFFERENCE:  
**HYDE DOESN'T LIE**

**Part III**

"Laid him out with one punch!" Donna said over the phone. "You should've been there. God, I wish he'd do that to Eric."

Jackie was lying on her bed, stomach-side down. Donna had called her at 9:30 at night, hours after Steven brought her home. The bandaged slice in her hand stung, and her breast still felt the pressure of Michael's fingers, and she hoped Steven's fist had made Michael's face hurt.

"Unlike my ex," Jackie said, "yours wouldn't feel you up when you've told him not to. Though I don't know why you _ever _wanted Eric to touch you 'cause he's all _eww._"

"Yeah..." Donna said. "Kelso's gonna have a shiner for at least a week. Hyde didn't hold back. My dad sent Kelso home with a bag of frozen peas on his eye."

"Did Steven say anything to Michael, you know, before or after the punch?"

Jackie's fingers were digging in her comforter, but she grasped it at Donna's answer: "Did he ever." Donna was laughing. "Hyde's, like, appointed himself your personal bodyguard. He did the same for Eric back in middle school... and Fez in Freshman year. Huh. Maybe Hyde's got himself a career path—"

"Focus, Donna!"

"Sorry. Hyde told Kelso if he ever touches you again in a way you don't like, he'll find himself in the E.R. And the best thing is that Kelso actually seemed to believe him. He can be really dense when it comes to that stuff."

"You don't have to tell me," Jackie said. "Michael doesn't understand that 'No' is a complete sentence."

"_Mm-hmm._ He tried making out with my neck last year during your roller-disco contest."

"He did?" Jackie sat up on the bed. "God, what a creep! How could I have ever fallen for him?"

"Well—"

"It's a rhetorical question, Donna. But I have one that isn't. Have you ever done something, made an error in judgment, that you completely regret?"

Silence met Jackie's ear, but it was followed by a burst of static. Donna must have heaved a huge, Amazonian breath. "What did you do?" she said.

"Nothing! I was asking hypothetically. And, hypothetically, if you made such a mistake, how would you go about correcting it?"

"Depends on what the mistake is," Donna said. "Can you be more specific?"

Jackie leaned back against her headboard. The poster above her stated, "Love is forever and ever." With Michael, she'd desperately wanted to believe that was true. She'd fantasized away his bad behavior and imagined him capable of such devotion. With Steven, in that one kiss they shared, she'd actually felt a love beyond this life—and the feeling had frightened her beyond comprehension.

"I lied about—" Jackie said but caught herself. "I mean, _what if _I lied about something really important? And another person got the wrong impression and wrote me off?"

"Easy. Just tell that other person the truth."

"What if it's too late?"

"If what you lied about is really important,'" Donna said, "and the other person is someone you care about, then it's worth the risk of finding out. Unless you killed her mother or something. You didn't—"

"No, you big goon! This is all hypothetical anyway."

"Okay, okay..." Donna sounded annoyed, but her irritation shifted elsewhere. "Oh, you know what's _not _hypothetical? How much Eric's basement stinks. I mean, it really smells. I think he's farting more now that I'm barely coming around."

Jackie couldn't disagree, but as Donna went into a litany of Eric's faults, Jackie stared at her wounded hand and remembered the concern in Steven's voice, the gentleness of his touch, and how he'd physically supported her for a half-hour. She'd had one chance with him, and because her mind was too slow to catch up with her heart, she'd ruined it.

* * *

The next morning, Jackie went to the Formans', hoping she'd catch Steven before work. She didn't and instead found Donna, Eric, Fez, and Mrs. Forman all in the kitchen. The place smelled like freshly-baked cookies, which made sense since Mrs. Forman had just made a batch. She was scooping them from a cooking sheet onto a plate, and for a brief moment, Jackie imagined her own mother doing the same thing. But Pam Burkhart wasn't a domestic person; she gave domestics orders.

"What's going on?" Jackie said. Donna was leaning against the kitchen bar, away from Eric and Fez who were sitting at the table. Fez had a list in his hands, and he was writing things down. "Are you planning a bank heist or something?" Jackie's mood brightened at the thought. "Ooh, can I be the lookout? I've got this great, glittery mask I can wear—"

"Slow down, Bonnie," Donna said. "They're just planning a ridiculous party."

Jackie's face froze in horror. "Not with clowns—"

"No, a 'Let's Get Hyde a Woman' party," Fez said, and Jackie's expression didn't unfreeze.

Eric nodded. "Yeah, for once, Hyde's gonna fall in in love, and we'll be able to make fun of _him. _We'll be all, 'Hey, everyone. Hyde's in love!' Ha-ha-ha—BURN!"

Jackie forced life back into her features. "There's nothing burn-worthy about a man in love." She sat at the table just as Mrs. Forman brought over the plate of cookies. They were chocolate chip, and Jackie reached for one.

Eric deflected her wounded hand with Fez's pencil. "Don't touch those with _that. _You'll infect the cookies with your demon blood."

"Honey, be nice to Jackie," Mrs. Forman said, and Jackie stuck her tongue out at Eric. Donna did the same from across the kitchen, but Eric didn't seem to spot it.

"Jackie, sweetie, let me see your hand." Mrs. Forman examined Jackie's healing wound. "That's looks a lot better than yesterday. I think we made the right choice with the butterfly bandages. How does it feel?"

"Tender when I move my fingers," Jackie said, "but otherwise fine."

"Good." Mrs. Forman picked up a cookie and passed to her.

"Thank you." Jackie took a bite. The cookie was the right mix of sweet and salty. Mrs. Forman definitely knew how to bake, and so did Jackie in her own way, but not with food. Jackie's expertise lay in manipulating situations for her own ends. "This party is a great idea," she said. "I'm gonna find the perfect match for Steven. After all, my nickname is 'The Queen of Romance'."

"No one calls you that," Donna said. She approached the table and swiped a cookie, and Jackie suppressed the urge to bat her giant, cranky hand away.

"Everybody, listen to Fez," Fez said. He had his pencil again and underlined something on his list. "Now, we will each bring no less than two and no more than five girls for Hyde, okay? I will console the rejects with a hot-oil massage." He grinned. "I will be nude."

Donna headed for the kitchen's glass door. "And I'm outta here. The radio station's giving away a van, and I gotta work. I will be clothed."

She left, and Fez said, "Too bad. I will imagine her nude."

"Well, I think it's a great idea," Mrs. Forman said. "Steven is almost a man, and he needs to meet a nice girl who will help him find his way."

Jackie's stomach clenched. He'd already met a nice, beautiful girl—_Jackie._

She mulled over her next move as Eric complained about being in hell. Mr. Forman came into the kitchen, and people were talking, but none of their conversation registered. Not until Mrs. Forman said, "We're having a little party for Steven so he can meet his Miss Right."

"I've gotta go," Jackie said and stood from the table. She had to find the ugliest girls possible, and where better to find them than at the mall?

* * *

Hyde climbed down the basement stairs with a deck of cards in his pocket. He was ready for a night of TV and light gambling, but more than his friends were downstairs. Mrs. Forman ushered him into the basement and announced his arrival—"a caring, intelligent, snazzy young man"—to a room full of chicks. Music blasted from Forman's stereo. Beer was flowing freely from a keg, and strangely Mrs. Forman didn't seem to care.

"Oh, my..." she grasped Hyde's arm, as if she were afraid he'd bolt, "you look so handsome! Your shirt's all tucked in and formal—and, look, it has buttons!" She laughed her loud, joyous laugh; then she ran up the basement stairs, like she'd overstayed her welcome.

Hyde glanced around the room, searching for Forman and Fez. He recognized most of the girls here. They were from school, but _why _were they here? Fez emerged from a crowd of blondes, and Hyde pulled him aside. "Hey, man, what's goin' on?" Hyde said. "Thought we were watchin' _Saturday Night Live._"

"Yeah, change of plans," Fez said. "We're having a party with girls. A keg and girls. For no reason whatsoever. And your mother thinks it's a keg of apple cider. So _shh!_"

Hyde had no problem with any of that. "Great."

"And there's no agenda," Fez said.

"All right."

"Stop grilling me, you bastard! This is just a party!"

"I got it, Fez, and I got it."

These chicks were just what Hyde needed. Crazy ideas had corrupted his gray matter last night. He wasn't a relationship guy. Continually falling for girls who weren't available should've clued him in on that. If he really wanted something to work out between him and a chick, his freakin' heart would've made better choices.

He spotted a busty brunette he knew put-out, _Andrea._ He intended to say more than hello, but Fez held him back.

"Hyde," Fez said, "allow me to introduce you to a special lady."

From there, things got weird. Fez bounced him from girl to girl, giving him three minutes with each before tossing him to the next. They asked him questions, and they all seemed interested in him. He rarely had trouble finding someone to screw, but the easier, the better.

* * *

Jackie had rejected thirty girls to bring to Steven's party. The mall had too-good a selection today, girls with big breasts, those with a high-class fashion sense, and greasy-haired sluts wearing rock tees. They would all appeal to Steven's libido, and she couldn't risk that.

Her miracle arrived at The Hub later in the evening: Big Rhonda. She was as much of a giant as Donna with a pageboy haircut. She also snorted and wore glasses. Steven would never go for her.

She was perfect.

Jackie invited her to the party then hurried home. She picked out a strappy top and skirt combo that showed off her shoulders and arms, enough to be alluring without being suggestive. She left her hair down because it was one of her top five features. Plus, she liked how Steven's fingers felt stroking it—the one time they had.

Her makeup played up her eyes. Her lips needed to be kissably nude. She wanted as few barriers as possible between herself and Steven tonight, and _Cosmo _said bright lipstick and sticky lip gloss could be turn-offs.

She arrived at the party just in time to go unnoticed. She ensconced herself by the basement stairs and observed. Fez was leading Steven around from girl to girl. Some were prettier than others, but none of them were Jackie Burkhart.

And no one was Steven Hyde. He had on a dress shirt instead one of his grubby tees. It was tucked into his jeans, and he looked respectable, like someone she could introduce to her father.

Ten minutes later, Fez stopped showing Steven around as if he were a prized cow. Jackie inched closer to the couch, where they were standing. Eavesdropping was difficult with the loud music thumping through the basement, but she had to keep Steven from spotting her. She placed herself strategically behind a broad-shouldered girl and listened.

"So," Fez said, "what do you think?"

"You know, I think if I time this right," Steven said, "I can nail every single one of these girls... tonight."

Jackie gasped then clamped her mouth shut. Steven was spouting male bravado. He couldn't mean it.

"No, no, no, no, no," Fez said, and Jackie risked peeking out from her broad-shouldered camouflage. Fez was pointing a finger in the air. "You're supposed to pick just one. To _love_, not nail. Love."

"Yeah, right." Steven clutched his belt with one hand and moved closer to the stereo. _Damn,_ why did he have to look so foxy tonight? Fez followed, and Jackie did, too, concealing herself behind other girls.

"Okay, listen to me, Johnny Cool," Fez said. "I threw this party for you so you can find one girlfriend to love you. And that is all: one."

Steven glanced around the basement. "You set this up?"

"Yeah. We all thought you needed help finding a quality woman, so—"

"What?" Steven scowled. "Man, you sit around and talk about me? Is that what's goin' on? Look, I don't want your help."

He strode toward the basement door and left. Jackie pursued but not too quickly. She didn't want him to think she was stalking him. She counted ten long seconds before opening the door. He'd cleared the last step of the staircase outside, and she began her own quiet climb.

A breeze hit her at the top of the stairs. She intended to chase casually after Steven—to bump into him as if she'd been roaming the neighborhood—but she stiffened at the Formans' picket fence. The sight on the driveway had rooted her in place. Donna was introducing Steven to some raven-haired skank wearing a WFPP shirt. He slid off his sunglasses, and their removal revealed the face of one smitten.

He shook the interloper's hand, and his gaze became hooked on her, just as he'd hooked his sunglasses on his shirt. Jackie didn't know what to do. He was uttering stupid things at this girl, the way boys did when they were in Jackie's own presence.

A thousand curses pricked her mind at once, and she hid herself behind the picket fence. The interloper, Steven, and Donna passed by her and climbed down the basement stairs. Jackie counted a short twenty seconds before following.

The next quarter hour was spent observing. Observing and not interfering. And Jackie's stomach churned at every awful thing she witnessed. Steven fawned over that girl—_Melissa—_like he was someone who couldn't get better. Melissa ordered him around the same way Jackie used to order Michael, and instead of telling Melissa off, Steven actually did what she said.

Jackie pressed herself back against basement stairs. Steven and Melissa were sitting on the deep-freeze together, and he listened intently as she went on about the Chicago music scene. He tried to interject a few times, but she cut him down, and he shut up like an obedient puppy.

Jackie didn't like it. This girl was tapping into a part of Steven he wasn't aware of, and it was dangerous. He never kowtowed to anyone. Refused to be controlled. And it meant his good deeds for people were genuine, which Jackie loved. His motives were pure and came from his heart, not from some attempt to get something in return—like Michael.

What did Steven hope to get from this girl? What had he found in her that he hadn't found elsewhere—a pair of sizable breasts? A round, pert butt? Maybe her job at the radio station was the draw, the fact she spun rock records. But none of these things explained his desperation to impress her tonight, unless...

His total lack of experience in relationships had caught up to him. He wanted to mean more to someone than a good time, but his confidence with women was sexual, not emotional. Melissa had to be the first girl—after his disastrous pursuit of Donna—that he was interested in beyond his body, and Melissa was taking full advantage of that.

Jackie had to warn him. Melissa could sour him against relationships forever, just as Michael had soured Jackie. She waited, though, until Melissa hopped off the deep-freeze. Steven remained seated, and his gaze tracked Melissa through the crowd of girls, all the way to the basement bathroom.

Jackie dashed to him, but a sad thought rained down on her. If Melissa was the first girl who'd engaged Steven's heart after Donna, then Jackie hadn't been his second attempt at love. What he'd felt during their kiss had to be platonic or even—as gross as it was—familial. He saw her as a little sister, as someone to protect but nothing more.

"Steven," she said, but he didn't seem to hear her. He was twirling an empty plastic cup between his hands. "Steven," she said a little louder, "it looks like you've found a potential girlfriend."

"Yeah," he said, sounding dazed; then he blinked and shook his head. "No. No way. Girlfriends are for chumps like Forman." He squinted. "Jackie? When the hell'd you get here?"

"Oh, I've been here."

His focus pulled completely away from the basement bathroom. "How's your hand?"

"Mrs. Forman says it's healing well." She held up her hand and showed him the bright, long scab with its butterfly bandages.

"Funky." He slid his finger down the uninjured edge of her palm. His touch was careful, concerned, and it piled ache after ache into her chest. "Does it hurt?"

_A lot, _but he wouldn't understand the reason why. "Not really. It's like a mouth that's been stapled shut."

He smirked. "Don't say something like that to me. Too easy."

"_Anyway,_" she pushed her hair from her shoulder, "seems like you've made your choice, but did you talk to every girl here?"

"Yup—wait," his brow furrowed, "you were in on this li'l scheme of a party, too?"

"Not the way you might think. So, Melissa's the best of the bunch?"

"Why do you care?"

"I believe in comparison shopping." She glanced behind herself at the bathroom. She didn't want Melissa walking in on their conversation. "Sometimes glossy packaging can disguise a bad deal. You shouldn't make your final purchase until you've seen all your options."

"She's not a hooker, Jackie. I'm not paying for her."

"That's not what I meant. There's still a girl here you haven't even considered going out with."

"Big Rhonda? Yeah, I talked to her. She just came for the keg."

"No," she said and inhaled a shaky breath. He'd risked going out on a date with her half a year ago, despite not knowing how she'd act toward him. Now—regardless of how he felt or didn't feel about her—she was willing to risk utter humiliation."I'm talking about me."

Steven stared at her dully before a surge of laughter crested through him. "Whatever, Jackie. I'm not gonna appease your freakin' ego so you can feel like the 'prettiest girl' here."

He jumped off the deep-freeze and pushed past her. Melissa was out of the bathroom and talking to Donna. They were standing by the shelves under the stairs, and Melissa was writing something down on a notepad. Probably her phone number for Steven, and he was moving toward her.

Jackie had no time to think. She raced after him and tapped his shoulder. He turned around and glowered. "Jackie, get the hell over yourself. I'm not—"

She hooked her fingers over the back of his neck and pulled him into a kiss. He resisted... for less than a second. Then he cupped the back of her head and kissed her back. She didn't have to coax him deeper into her mouth. He went there willingly. She ramped up the intensity, just as she had at Inspiration Point, and her legs grew wobbly. Unlike last time, she wasn't sitting down, and she leaned into him for support.

His arm slid firmly around her back and held her up. The warmth of his mouth, the smooth rhythm of his lips and tongue—their effect on her evolved into a frenzied revelation: she already loved him. She'd fallen in love ages ago, and she would love him until, perhaps, time stopped. She didn't understand how it could be so, only that it was so.

Steven's hand drifted from her hair to the side of her neck; then it glided over the skin of her bare shoulder. His touches were both exploratory and tender, as if savoring the contact between them. His kiss had grown hot and moist, and buried within his breaths was his voice, expressing pleasure. Little groans, barely audible, but they made her tremble. Tears rose in her closed eyes, not because she was sad or afraid. The amount of connection she felt to this boy simply overwhelmed her.

Were the kiss to last forever, she wouldn't balk at her fate. But her fingers slipped into his hair and twisted in its soft curls, and she forced herself to pull away. "Steven," she said. He didn't respond, but his eyes were fixed on hers, as focused as she'd ever encountered them. "I felt something the first time we kissed. It was just too much. I couldn't—"

"Uh-huh," he said, both cheerfully and slightly absent. "Glad your mouth isn't stapled shut."

"Wha—_mmf!_"

His lips were on hers again, and thoughts fled her mind He was cradling her face with both hands, and his thumbs rubbed her cheeks affectionately. She hugged his waist, and tried not to smile into the kiss but failed.

"Nice job, Hyde!" a disruptive voice shouted, and Steven withdrew from Jackie—barely. Donna was standing beside them, along with Eric and Fez. The basement had become empty of guests. Watching Jackie and Steven make out must have signaled the end of the party. "Melissa saw you two Frenching," Donna said, "told me something I'm too polite to repeat, then left."

Steven flicked his eyes in Donna's direction, "Who?" then settled them back onto Jackie. No one had quite looked at her that way before. Even in her most vivid dreams, she hadn't imagined such a look, what she could classify only as restrained adoration.

"Melissa, my coworker from the radio station," Donna said.

"The bitch you let control you for fifteen minutes," Jackie said.

Donna grimaced. "Jackie!"

"It's true! She's a man-killer, Donna. I know the type because I _am_ the type, only I use my powers for good."

Jackie paused a moment. Steven hadn't distanced himself from her by any measure. His arm was around her waist, and he was still gazing at her. She hadn't seemed to offend him, but she hoped the rest of her wisdom wouldn't destroy their progress tonight.

"You don't take a wolf cub abandoned by its mother," she said, "and punish it for not knowing how to hunt. That won't teach it how to survive in the wild. You have to encourage a wolf to do the right thing with positive experiences and positive reinforcement."

"What?" Donna said.

Jackie shrugged. "Daddy and I watched a nature documentary on PBS last night."

Steven's hand was resting on her hip, but his fingertips grazed her elbow. His palm skimmed down to her hand and grasped it. He began leading her to his room, and her heart wracked her body with frantic beats, but Eric voiced her own question before she could: "Hyde, what are you doing?"

"Forman, consider your little party a success," Steven said. "You got me a girlfriend. Good job, man."

Jackie burst into a grin and hugged Steven's arm to her chest. "I'm your girlfriend?"

"Six months later than it had to be, but that's cool. We'll make up for lost time."

He led her faster toward his room, and she had no more doubts about their first kiss. She'd awoken something deeper in him, same as he'd done for her. A circuit was created between them, but her lie had broken the loop. His desire for connection sparked out of him, having nowhere to go but the air—and then Melissa, who would have fried the circuit beyond fixing.

Steven sneaked a kiss to Jackie's temple as he ushered her inside his room. He started to close the door, and Eric shouted, "No! Not Jackie! You weren't supposed to pick Ja—!"

Steven shut the door. A grin lit his face, and her own must have matched it. Even so, she said, "What about Melissa? You seemed to really like her."

"Temporary insanity," he said, "and a crap-substitute for the real thing." His eyes were focused on hers again and filled with the same adoration as before, only this time less restrained. "Ready to give me some positive reinforcement?"

She nodded happily and opened her arms to him. He flew into her embrace and launched them onto his cot, and they began making up for lost time.


End file.
